


Mogu Mogu

by nuclearwinter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Cosplay, Crossdressing Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearwinter/pseuds/nuclearwinter
Summary: Rose is throwing a theme party, and Dirk's costume kick-starts a crisis for Dave.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Dirk Strider
Comments: 10
Kudos: 96
Collections: Stridercest Secret Santa





	Mogu Mogu

**Author's Note:**

> My Stridercest Secret Santa 2019 gift for Cole! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Huge thanks to Cahoots for the hand holding <3

"Perfect," says Rose, in lieu of a greeting when she opens the door and sees Dave's costume.

"Like I was going to pass up on this level of irony," Dave replies, standing still for her air kiss. 

"It's not irony," calls John from down the hall, putting the grandiose echo in Rose's mother's house to use. "She's just pranking her mom."

Dave follows Rose into the parlor, where most of their friends are already gathered.

A '2010s throwback theme party' is probably less a prank and more another move in some passive aggressive four dimensional chess—maybe to make her mom feel old or something—but once again, Dave isn't complaining. 

He's very proud of his costume: bright red shutter shades, his ugliest chunky sole white sneakers, a teal leopard print hoodie, red skinny jeans and pineapple print socks.

Rose is in a dramatically flared purple peplum shirt and black leggings. Roxy and Jane are swaying to the beat of some terrible Pitbull song, both wearing matching long in the back, short in the front dresses—mullet dresses, Dave has always thought. 

Jake and John are on the sofa with a bowl of guac between them. Jake is in painted-on skinny jeans held up by a belt covered in yellow mustaches paired with a red and black flannel shirt, and John is wearing what he always does except his t-shirt has 'BAZINGA!' printed on the front. Damn him. 

Dave greets them both, and makes his way around the room greeting all his friends. It isn't until he wanders into the kitchen that he finally runs into Dirk. 

He had been expecting a top tier ironic costume from Dirk. He had _not_ been expecting this, and he doesn't manage to bite back his squeak.

"Hey bro," says Dirk. "Love the shades. Nice."

"Uh, hey. Love the… skirt," Dave manages to reply, hoping he sounds smooth. 

Dirk smooths his buttery yellow skirt down. It's cinched in at the top by a brown waist trainer, which paired with a floofy beribboned white blouse is giving him quite the shape. 

"Thanks, made it myself." Dirk turns around and opens the fridge. "I'm assuming you're here for a drink. You want a cider?" 

"Yes please," Dave says, unable to take his eyes off the strip of skin between the high hem of Dirk's skirt and his mauve high stockings. He has a blonde wig on, styled into curly twin tails. "Are you a… Dutch loli? I may have missed that trend."

"Other than the shades, I'm Mami from _Puella Magi Madoka Magica,"_ says Dirk, handing Dave a cider. "Iconic 2010s anime. You haven't seen it?" 

"No, I have," Dave lies. He _had_ skimmed the fan Wiki so he wouldn't feel out of the loop on the Meguca memes. 

He follows Dirk back into the parlor, not really listening to his spiel on Madoka's role in the ironic magical girl anime trend. He can't look away from the way those boots lift Dirk's ass, the way the white bow on the back trails down past the hem to brush his thighs with each step. He hopes these shutter shades are hiding enough of his eyes. His ancient thing for Rose has been stamped out; there is no way he is going to have weird thoughts about Dirk now too. Being Meguca is indeed suffering. 

Dave is halfway into a second cider when Jade finally arrives, in galaxy print tights as pants, and the party starts to pick up. Everyone has broken off into smaller groups, talking and laughing. Dave drifts between them, desperately trying not to think about Dirk in that damn skirt.

At some point, Dave realizes he has had way too many ciders to drive home. Rose had prepared several guest rooms, fully expecting this, and Dave gratefully disappears into one to pass out. 

He wakes up at 2:00 am, according to the blinding light of his phone, urgently needing to piss. Fuck. He hates trying to find the bathroom in Rose's mom's house. No matter how many times he's been here, the exact layout of the winding mansion never sticks in his mind. He's less tipsy than he was when he lay down, though, so he won't have his own brain working against him at least.

Dave picks his way through the corridors, not sure where the light switches are and trying not to bang into any wizards. It's quiet and dark, which means either the party is over or at least whoever is left has wound it down into something more intimate. 

Finally, he finds the bathroom behind a staircase. He's just finished up and washing his hands, when he notices Dirk's wig hanging off the towel rack and the reason he basically fled the party comes flooding back. 

Dave decides taking a moment to lie down on the floor sounds like a great idea. 

He has just pressed his face into the cool tile by the extravagant claw-footed tub when the door opens. 

"Oh fuck, are you okay?" Of course it's Dirk, still mostly in that fucking outfit. Somehow it's even worse—softer, more him—without the wig and boots. Dave closes his eyes against the sound of soft stockinged footsteps on the tile. As if it'd sound any different in Nike socks. He's so pathetic. 

"Yeah," he croaks. "Just chillin'."

"Are you nauseous? I'll roll you onto your side." 

"Nah, my stomach is fine. I'm just, uh, hot."

He can feel the whoosh of skirts against his face as Dirk drops to his knees. He opens his eyes against his better judgment, to get a perfect view of the way Dirk's smooth flesh plumps out just a little above the top of the stocking's elastics. Why is that so fucking sexy? 

The thing is. It's not the skirt alone that's sexy. It's Dirk, and Dave didn't need to know this. He'd already known Dirk was smart, funny, insightful, passionate and talented. Like, basically the package deal. Everything Dave could want in a bro. Or a partner, but like, who thinks that about their cousin? Dave, apparently, at least once he's seen them in a skirt and thigh-highs. He runs a finger up one of the stripes, forlornly. 

"You're hot, huh," says Dirk, and Dave snatches his hand back to groan into his palms. 

"Actually I am gonna puke. You better get out of the blast radius." He slaps at Dirk's hands, which are reaching out at him for some reason. Maybe to roll him over. He hopes Dirk rolls him out the window. 

"Wow, touchy. Does my cosplay turn you on, bro?" Dirk pushes through Dave's defences easily, tipping his face back toward him. The outfit has strange puffy arm socks that come to rest loosely around the bases of his hands over dark fingerless gloves. Dave doesn't know if that's part of the cosplay or just Dirk refusing to go too far off brand—and yes, he is focusing on this in lieu of looking Dirk in the eye. "I'm sorry," Dirk continues, before Dave can figure out what to say. "I'm just teasing. We're cool here."

He takes Dave's hand and places it firmly back on his leg, right between the stocking and his skirt. Dave's brain skips violently, but Dirk keeps his hand pressed there against the warm smooth skin. 

"Did you shave?" Dave blurts out. 

"Uh, I sugared actually. Are we… we are cool, right?" For a moment the pressure on Dave's hand lets up. His heart lurches. 

"No, yeah, yes, we are. Cool." 

"Cool."

"Shut up," Dave groans, but he isn't about to pull away for the world. He balances on the edge of an uncharted land, emotionally and also physically. Dirk's dick is probably inches from his hand.

"I'm serious though, bro. You're hot, and I trust you. If you want to have some fun, take advantage of my get up tonight, I'm down."

Something like a pang goes through Dave's chest, but there are too many other feelings swirling around in there and he's too tipsy and too horny to parse it all. 

"You're hot," he says, "and I, I trust you too. So." His heart pangs harder. Maybe he shouldn't be jumping into this. But it is the best scenario he could hope for. Right? Get it out of his system. Have some fun.

He slides his hand slowly further up Dirk's leg, heart feeling like it is about to come out of his throat as Dirk does nothing to stop him. There's no fabric there to stop him, either, and it's so sexy Dave can barely stand it. 

He keeps sliding up and back over that smooth warm skin, Dirk bending forward and shuffling closer as he does, his fingers mapping the tiny curve where Dirk's ass meets his thigh, and higher, until they hit what are definitely not boxers or briefs. 

"You really went ham with this cosplay, didn't you," Dave manages, checking Dirk's expression. It's as flat as ever, but his gaze through his shades is charged. 

"If you're going to do something," he says, swinging a leg over Dave, "do it well."

Dave hooks his fingers in the lacy edge of what are absolutely panties, hanging on as as Dirk straddles him. He shifts too, until he's flat on his back, the bath mat bunched up under him, eyes are riveted to the sight of his own hand disappearing into Dirk's skirt. Dirk is breathing, hot and real above him, and Dave shoves his other hand in too, thrilling all over again at all the bare skin under his hand until he is cupping Dirk's ass under the thin soft fabric of his panties. 

Dirk's breath hitches, and all Dave's blood rushes south. He _really_ regrets wearing skinny jeans. 

"Fuck," breathes Dirk, and then Dave is being half smothered in puffy white blouse and bows before lips find his.

It's immediately wet and hot and kind of desperate, no easing in. Dave doesn't want to ease in. It wipes his mind even better than the cider, he thinks, deliriously. The slight rasp of Dirk's stubble against his face is such a shocking contrast to the softness of his ass under Dave's hands, and he can't stop himself from kneading, pulling Dirk into himself. 

Dazed and suddenly cold, Dave blinks as Dirk sits back until Dave has to let go of his ass. Dave doesn't have much time to mourn, because then Dirk starts grinding down. 

He drops his shades into the bath before grabbing it for extra leverage, grinding slower and stronger. His mouth is flushed and pink. Dave's hands are somehow already on his hips under the skirt, when the fuck did that happen.

Dave's dick is in some kind of sensation purgatory, trapped between the heavenly pressure of Dirk's body and the hellish rasp of his jeans. 

"Wait," he chokes out, yanking on Dirk's hips, trying to guide him higher up his body. "I wanna… Climb up."

"Oh, okay," Dirk replies, evidently getting the message as he shuffles his stockinged knees up exactly where Dave wants them, until he is right over his face. 

His panties are striped and lacy and have a white bow on the front. Dave is mostly sure Meguca Madoka or whatever isn't a pantie shot anime, but as Dirk said, if you're going to do something… 

And if Dave is going to fuck his drunk cousin against a bath, then he is going to do it well. 

He smiles against the bow that sits cutely above where Dirk's filling cock is straining against the fabric. He's not the only one 'having fun taking advantage of this get up'. He gives Dirk an appreciative smooch through the fabric.

One kiss bleeds into mouthing along the shaft, his hands crushing Dirk's hips forward into his face. Luckily Rose's mom's bath mat is so plush. 

This isn't Dave's first rodeo—although it is admittedly the first time he's done it with a cross-dressing cousin on a bathroom floor—and even so, the fluid ease with which Dirk matches him is blowing his mind. Dirk pulls back and lifts his knees one by one in perfect time as Dave rolls his panties down and off. 

It's overwhelming. Dave only woke up to his terrible crush on Dirk a few hours ago, and now his dick is in his face. Get it out of the system. 

He tugs Dirk back down, and lets Dirk push the head of his dick into his face. Dirk can't see, of course, and it's a little messy. It feels secret and exciting, the skirt falling around Dave and brushing his chest and neck, cutting out the light. 

He hasn't got much room to move his head, so he lets Dirk take control, falls into the rhythm, the sensation of flesh sliding through his lips and against his tongue, the feel of Dirk's ass in his hands, smooth skin all the way from the top of his stockings to the small of his back. 

He hears a clang as Dirk grips the bath, feels his thighs start to tense harder with each push. He only has seconds to prepare before bitter hot come floods his mouth, and he swallows as best he can. 

He squints, blinded as Dirk pulls off him, taking the intimate darkness of his skirt with him. He sits back down on Dave's thighs, breathing hard. His white blouse is dark with sweat in a line over his collar. 

This is going to be over too soon. 

Dirk shifts until he finds Dave's trapped boner again, rubs his naked ass on it and suddenly the impending end looms even closer. 

"Wait, I don't wanna come in my pants," Dave huffs, grabbing Dirk's knees. One of his stockings has slipped down his leg.

"That close?" Dirk has the nerve to say, when he is the one in this room who blew his load already. 

"Oh no, you fuckin' got me," he grumbles. "So what, I like little anime skirts. I like hot dudes." He holds Dirk's waist, enjoying the cool fabric of the waist trainer against his sweaty palms. He takes a deep breath, trying to get himself under control. "Can you blame me here?"

"Nah," says Dirk, squirming his hips again, and Dave's breath starts once again to hitch with every intake. It's more than that, it's you, he wants to say, but Dirk cuts him off with: "I get it. Do you wanna come on my skirt?" 

"Oh fuck yes," is all Dave can manage. Dirk flashes him one of his crooked little grins, and then he's forcing Dave's horrible jeans open and freeing his aching dick. Dave doesn't even get a second to absorb the moment, because Dirk immediate gathers the fabric of his skirt around Dave's dick and squeezes. It's not lined with anything silky, and when Dirk starts moving his hand it's nearly more pain than pleasure, but the way it looks has Dave nailed to the floor, his hips pushing up and up and up as his brain melts out of his head. His hands fly to Dirk's forearms, clutching at the loose fabric there. 

Sweaty tingling heat is rushing like waves over his body, aching in his groin, hidden in the butter yellow fabric being crushed in Dirk's fists. Dirk's face is intense and focused, glowing, gorgeous, and when his thumb presses into Dave's tip through the fabric he's gone, everything swept out from under him, melting and leaking and shaking. 

When the world comes back into focus, the bathroom lights seem somehow even harsher, starker than they had before. Dirk is staring down at him, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. 

It doesn't have to end yet. 

"Come down here," Dave croaks, surprised at his own voice. 

Dirk smiles, the barest hint of a lift at the corner of his lip. Dave's favorite. 

He rolls them off the mat and onto the gloriously cool tiles. 

Dave awakens to the sound of running water and Dirk swearing quietly. Daylight is peeking through the frosted windows, illuminating Dirk wrapped in a towel and fussing with something in the sink. 

"Sup man," Dave yawns. "Where the fuck are we?"

Dirk turns to look, and Dave sees the edge of a yellow skirt in the sink. The events of the previous night come rushing back, each stupid decision hitting harder than the last. 

"Do you… Not remember? I didn't think you were that drunk."

Dave thinks about trying to run with this terrible romcom cliche, as his life seems to have turned into one anyway in the past 12 hours, but Dirk's shades are still in the bath and Dave can't lie. Not with Dirk looking at him like that. 

"No wait. I remember, yep, I really do." He manages to cut off the ramble. 

"Sounds promising." Dave feels his face get hot. "I myself would prefer to continue this conversation over some food, if you'd like. But I didn't bring a change of clothes, and, well." He gestures to the wet skirt in the sink. 

There's a knock on the door. 

"Yeah?" Dirk answers, as Dave turns to press his face into the floor. He immediately regrets it, as the tile is searingly cold on his exposed knob. 

"Ahem," says Rose through the door. She enunciates it like a word. Dave isn't sure if he loves her or hates her. "I've left a change of clothes outside. You're welcome."

They wait until the click of her shoes has faded down the hall before opening the door. 

Neatly folded on the floor is a lavender skirt. 


End file.
